


Power Move

by Frozenfox1 (AimlesslyAinley)



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Boot Worship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Other, bootblack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AimlesslyAinley/pseuds/Frozenfox1
Summary: It turns out cultivating your boot polishing skills during academy has provided you with the perfect outlet while on deployment. Things get quickly intense when you're suddenly transferred to the Steadfast- under command of Allegiant General Pryde, a well known hardass among the soldiers and many of the officers. Getting called to his private quarters was unnerving, but he requested you and your bootblack kit, so, how bad could it be?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Power Move

The First Order had a strict celibacy rule, which many found inconvenient, but did not hinder your cultivated skill set that officers were always a fan of, and of course you had no intentions of breaking such a rule that was monitored so closely. Allegiant General Pryde was a man with specific desires, things that skirt the abstinence rules, and lucky for you that word of your skills found their way to him. You became a Squad Leader through some hard work but mostly because people found out you had a talent for leather care and polishing boots- which is mostly what you assumed the General wanted with you, Ren’s arrival imminent and wanting to impress, no doubt. You ponder the last point as the lift doors open, your recent transfer to this ship making more sense as you step in. The doors close with a woosh, and you adjust the small toolkit from one hand to the other, thankful for the new gloves received upon the transfer. Your nerves prickle as the lift slows and the doors open to two Security Bureau officers who turned away, silently signaling you to follow them. The three of you briskly crossed the hall, and down a tucked away corridor. Neither security officer said a word, as you quietly passed through the area unnoticed as ghosts.   
“We’re almost there. Be sure you’re prepared, General Pryde doesn’t appreciate having to wait for others.” One of the guards said, though you were unsure which. You squeeze the grip handle to your kit, your stomach starting to knot as you begin to confront the realities of what could happen if you made a mistake. Your mouth goes dry, as the guards stop in front of a door and request entry to the room. The door wooshes open to General Pryde rigidly standing in the entry, his expression neutral but stern.   
“Thank you, Security, that’s all I’ll need you for the moment.” He glances at the two security guards that escorted you here. The two give a curt nod and leave to post themselves down the hall from the General’s quarters. You nervously glance at the departing men, and quickly snap back to the General whose gaze bore into you. Sharing the silence for several moments, he finally addresses you,  
“Squad Leader, I have some instructions before I have you begin. Please come in.” He says swiftly, turning away into his quarters and stopped at the nearby desk, and began sifting through the drawers. You take a step or two into the room and the doors hiss close behind you. Your heart was racing, you wanted to say something, and your hesitation must have been obvious to the General, because he paused for a second to regard you again.   
“You’re free to relax for now. I’m looking for a spare pair of gloves, I won’t allow you to use your obviously new uniform gloves for this.” Pryde bit back a sneer, his expression twitching before returning to his regular scowl and rummaging through the drawer again, “You are permitted to keep these gloves in that kit of yours, on two conditions.” He stood upright again, holding a pair of well-worn gloves in his hands and turning towards you.   
“Yes, sir?” You manage to get out. Studying your face, he continued,  
“One, you accept my offer to become my assistant. You have good skills, which would be a shame if General Hux wasted them. Two, this is to be kept between us, though I assume I didn’t find out about your talents because you talk.” Pryde allowed himself a smirk, as he watches your face as the information settles in. You consider it for maybe 10 seconds before you manage an ‘I agree’. Pryde flashed a smile to the agreement, a smile with little happiness and more of a glimmer of power, as he extends the gloves to you.   
“Good. I expect only the best, and that is exactly what you will get in return, I give you my word.” He closed the gap separating you, you could barely feel his breath on your face, his cold gaze burrowing into your soul. He reached out and gently touched your arm to guide you along.   
“The next time you’re here, I’ll make sure to have a proper set up for you but for now, we can tweak this temporary workspace if needed.” You pass the half wall that serves as divider between the entry and the sitting area, with a reading chair facing the half wall with a footrest and short step stool in front of it. The chair was not visible from the door, but undoubtedly one could be seen if in the chair but hold a conversation with someone in the entry. Although still a significantly anxiety inducing job, you were thankful you were not working under a desk, in the dark.  
“This will work well, Sir. Thank you.” You snuck a glance at the General, who looked as relaxed as he could, you thought. You move to set your kit down when once again there was the gentlest of touches to the back of your arm. You turn back to the General, confused,   
“Gloves, now, please. I refuse to risk ruining the one thing that makes those non-Officer uniforms tolerable.” He took in a deep breath, you think he might have been holding back a comment because he continued quickly, “I need to fetch my boots yet, so you have a minute or so to gather yourself.” You had given him your gloves before he had finished his sentence and retrieving the worn pair and putting them on. Looking back up to Pryde, you find him studying you once again, before turning and walking to his bedchambers and leaving you in the quiet hum of the suite. You start with taking off your uniform jacket and placing it on a small end table, then briskly moving to the floor, where you quickly open your toolkit and fine tune the adjustments until the General got back. He had paused for a moment before approaching the chair, swagger stick tucked under his arm and an older issue uniform boots; they weren’t as high gloss as the current First Order boots were but they sure as hell could take a shine. On your last ship, most of the officers you had seen were still wearing the old boots simply because it was easier to not stress over a little scuff.   
You take a step back, to allow the General to sit and let you adjust the footrests to make everything perfect. You stood up, looking at the General who was rolling the swagger stick between his fingers. You clear your throat,   
“If I could ask for a moment, sir?” You felt infinitely small in front of him, with his attitude gone from stern to smug, you were not entirely sure if this was part of the scene or not.   
“Yes, Squad Leader?” He sounded smug, all right.   
“I would very much like to begin my on your boots, if you’d allow it, sir.” It was a general line you used the first time with new clients.  
“A fine idea Squad Leader, but first, I’d like to know what work you so wish to do. I like being… informed.” He drew out the last word, feigning ignorance to get a rise out of you, and it worked. It was not humiliating work, but Pryde was a someone who must have craved total power in all aspects of life, and he would not shirk at an opportunity like this, to be at his mercy. You swallow hard,  
“General Pryde, it would honor me if I could clean, polish and worship your boots. I only hope I can inspire some honor with my skills.” You thank the stars you did not choke on your words. You felt slightly exposed without your jacket, the light under tunic shirt lacking in ability to keep you warm in the cool room, giving you goosebumps. You haven’t broken eye contact with Pryde since he sat down, he smirks,  
“You may proceed. There will be no talking, other touching or anything of the sort during this. I am expecting a few intrusions, and during these I will tap you gently on the shoulder with my cane. You can continue with the job during then, however you must keep the noise down as much as possible. Do we have an agreement?” He raises an eyebrow, and you nod,  
“Yes sir, I agree.” The last tendrils of anxiety finally letting go, knowing you were finally done with the small talk, and agreement formality, and were now allowed to begin work on Pryde’s boots. You kneel at his feet, starting with a stiff brush to knock off any loose dirt the boots may have gathered, paying special attention to the heel cap and outsole. Pryde kept his eyes on you as you began to run hands along the sides and front boots, squeezing the leather feeling to see if there was any conditioning needed. Pulling away, you turn to your kit and bring out a small container of specialty leather conditioner. Opening it, the deep and rich smokey smell rises to you, and you dip your fingers in, your worn gloves shining as you spread the grease between your hands and return to the boots. Beginning to massage the conditioner into the boots, you could hear Pryde take a deep breath and it nearly seemed like he was finally relaxing. The smoky sent of the warm leather and the conditioner enveloped you, bringing your face closer to the boots and breathing deeply.   
Lost in thought, your hands begin to move a little slower, practically resting your head on Pryde’s booted shin when you are tapped on the shoulder. You freeze for a moment, as you hear the doors open. You couldn’t remember hearing the door chime, a cold sweat starts as Pryde clears his throat and you continue conditioning the boots.   
“General Hux, what a pleasant surprise.” Pryde says coolly.  
“Sir, apologies about intruding. I… hm.” Hux paused, and you could hear him take two steps towards the half wall between the entry and the seating area. Pryde cleared his throat again,   
“Sir. We are requesting your presence on a meeting to organize the fleet, and to prepare the troops for the inevitable strike by the Resistance.” General Hux paused, briefly, “Permission to speak freely, sir.”   
The hair stood up on the back of your neck, even though what you were doing wasn’t breaking any regulations regarding fraternizing, but General Hux loathed Pryde and would use anything he could to undermine him, especially with rumors.   
“You may, be mindful to tread carefully, General.” Pryde remained calm, and you did your best to keep your hands moving along the boots, using them as sort of worry stone. There was a tense moment, before you heard Hux snap to attention, his boot heels clicking.   
“Apologies Sir, I will send along a communication later on, excuse me.” You hear him pad out with the door hissing behind him. You dare a look at Pryde as you lean back to the polish and brushes, hoping he couldn’t hear your heart racing. He retracts his swagger stick, his eyes burning a hole into the door. Not wanting to prolong this silent torture, you proceed quickly onto polishing, but are stopped as your fingers touch your water spray bottle.   
“Spit.” Pryde hissed, your stomach flips and you will yourself to create enough sylva to get the perfect shine on the boots. Soon enough the reflection in the grew in the toes of the boots, small pride growing in the revitalization of the once dull boots. Sitting back away from the you take a breath, the fumes of the polish quickly fading, you remove your gloves and move on to packing up your kit. Pryde got up shortly, and you could hear him rustling and clinking and returning with a cup of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> First, I'm happy I got this done to a point and posted. I'm not totally happy with it, but I am okay with the ending and most of it, anyway.   
> Second, this is likely to be my only Star Wars fic. Future uncertain. 
> 
> Heaven knows this is longer than I planned it originally.
> 
> Thanks for reading


End file.
